Of Shared Brilliance
by rokudenashi
Summary: Jonathan Crane's work centered world is suddenly transformed into one of guilt, shame, and regret as his past comes back to haunt him in the form of his childhood friend, Riley Gage.
1. Chapter 1

Ok, I started a pre BB fic. Ultimately it's about Crane's past but I also put another factor into it...

A girl. Yeah. I know. Mary-Sue blah blah blah. But it's not really romance, and there's definitely not going to be any lovey dovey Crane, because I don't believe that's the kind of person he is, but I also believe he feels all the normal emotions that everybody feels. He might seem OOC at first, but that's because he's not scary!Crane yet. But he will be. So bear with me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman.

Summary: Jonathan Crane's work-centered world is suddenly transformed into one of guilt, shame, and regret as his past comes back to haunt him in the form of his childhood friend, Riley Gage.

Of Shared Brilliance

"I'm not a criminal, Dr. Crane."

He knew from moment those words left her lips that Miss Riley Gage was innocent. There was no desperation in her tone. She hadn't pleaded with him, cried to him or even gotten frustrated. She had just told him the truth.

He had already known, of course. The claims that Mrs. Gage had sexually harassed her client, a twelve year old girl named Sarah Lombardy, were proven false. Lombardy was obviously a disturbed child; Crane knew that right away, but the disturbance was not caused by Miss Gage. Crane had learned after just one session with Lombardy that she had been sexually abused by her own father for most of her life and suffered from false-memory syndrome. When Lombardy's mother demanded that her daughter see a therapist due to her obvious emotional instability, her father had threatened her life if she dare spoke a word about their "special relationship."

"I can't believe she told you much. You really are brilliant, Doctor, just like I'd always told you," Miss Gage was telling him a day after the trial. She had proposed that they have lunch, to "celebrate" and catch up. They hadn't seen each other since medical school, after all. Crane was reluctant to agree. When they had parted so many years ago, it hadn't been on good terms, but Miss Gage seemed genuinely thrilled to see him, and he accepted.

"Not really. Once you get them started, the rest always seems to flow out on its own," Crane said, glancing up from his vegetable soup. He would have rather had cream of potato, but they only served it on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

"Modest as always." Gage teased, "Patients open up to you easily, don't they Doctor?"

"Mostly, yes."

"You have that effect on people." Gage smiled.

"What effect?" Crane asked. Gage shrugged, still smiling. She was peeling the crust off her turkey sandwich. Crane frowned.

"It tastes just like the rest of the bread, you know." Gage laughed. She looked at Crane, expecting an amused expression, but his face was lacking any expression at all. Her smile faltered.

"Bad habit of mine I guess. One of many." She was always putting herself down. Crane remembered that about her. She always paid plenty of compliments to him but never accepted any herself.

Both were silent for a moment. Gage had stopped picking at her sandwich and just sat. She had an elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, now. She seemed to be studying Crane as he sipped his soup. This irritated him rather quickly.

"What effect?" He asked again, breaking the awkward silence. Gage looked puzzled for a moment, before realizations hit her.

"Oh. I don't know, but you definitely have something about you. They trust you, your patients." Crane refrained from asking her just how exactly she would know that. Back when they knew each other he hadn't had patients; neither of them add. They were just kids in school. "You have kind eyes."

"You told me they were creepy." Crane retorted. Gage beamed.

"You remember that?" She laughed. Crane nodded. Of course he did. She used to tell him that all the time. He remembered sometimes he used to purposely annoy her by staring at her, eyes wide until she exclaimed, "Stop it, you're creeping me out!" She teased, and he provoked.

There was another prolonged silence as they finished up their meals. When Gage was finished, she pushed back her chair, crossed her arms over her blue sweater and smirked at Crane.

"You're just as talkative as a remember you were, Doctor."

"You can call me Jonathan." Crane told her, wondering why she still refused to address him by his first name.

"I was waiting for your permission, Jonathan." She said cooly.

"It's what you know me as." He had almost called her Miss Gage again. It was what he addressed her as during the trial, and even at their first re-acquaintance.

"I haven't seen you in seven years, Jon." She was serious all of the sudden, sentimental even, as she used the nickname she had used for him when they were friends. He preferred even his friends called him Jonathan, but the nickname had stuck with Riley. She had used it so often he eventually stopped correcting her.

So he had no inclination to do so now.

"I wish we could just pick up where we left off, but-" Gage was interrupted by Crane's cell phone beeping loudly from inside his coat pocket. He pulled it out and thought about muting it, but then, by habit and professionalism he answered the call.

"Crane." He said, his eyes straying to Gage, who was resting her chin in her hand again and staring off towards the road. "Oh yes, Mrs. Barsky. Yes, I remember...I'm not at my office right now, but I can get there in ten minutes. All right...I'll speak with her shortly."

Gage was already getting up and gathering her purse before Crane ended the call. He started to speak but she stopped him.

"You're busy. I understand." She smiled, but he sensed the disappointment in her voice. Seven years was a lot to catch up on, and they had barely spoken. Crane knew the fault was more on his end. He wasn't the same person he had been seven years ago, and he was having trouble just jumping back into a friendship that had ceased to be for so long. All of his energy and focus had been dedicated to his work, and the shock of having Riley Gage just prance right back into his life, and through his work at that, was having an effect on him.

They shook hands, and as she pulled away he felt a piece of paper slipped into his palm. He looked at her in question, and she shrugged, smiling.

"Call me when you're not so busy." She turned and left without a second glance. Crane watched her go, then glanced down at the table where they had eaten. A small smile graced his lips as he noticed she had left the money for half the bill.

They had always split the bill when they went out to eat.

And Crane always covered tip.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

"...And he never compliments me on my cooking, he just doesn't appreciate all that I do around the house! I'm quite simply fed up with it, Dr. Crane. You should meet him, you really should, then you'd see what I mean, and I'm certain you'd agree with me..."

Crane was finding concentrating on Miss Barsky's rambling even more difficult than usual.

"...You seem like the type of man that would compliment a woman on her cooking. Personally, I think every man should be that type of man, but most aren't. I bet you compliment your wife on her cooking, Dr. Crane."

He was actually contemplating on ending their session early, if he could ever get a word in.

"Of course you actually deserve your home cooked meals. Craig, on the other hand, oh he makes me so angry. Sometimes I just want to throw a frozen dinner in the microwave for him..."

He was surprised at himself for thinking that way, but he had never wanted to abandon a session so badly in his entire career, and that was saying a lot.

"Or better yet, give it to him to microwave himself! Ha! That would be a sight! Craig, actually working a kitchen appliance."

Crane was beginning to think that Mrs. Barsky's husband would have been better off if she had succeeded in killing him.

-

Perhaps the best part of all his days was the feeling of uncoiling tension as Crane lifelessly fell onto his bed after work. He would lie there for several moments, on his back, shoes and coat still on and glasses still covering his closed eyes. When Crane had become director of Arkham Asylum, many of his acquaintances said he'd suffer the same fate as Amadeus Arkham if he stayed at that place too long. He had passed it off as jealously at first. He had gotten somewhere important and significant from his schooling while they had only their own personal practices. Now though, he was beginning to doubt he could remain sane while constantly surrounded by the insane.

His thoughts inevitably strayed to Riley Gage, remembering her jealously when he got the better score on a test, a more important position at a job...

She didn't seem jealous of him now. If anything she seemed happy for him. It made sense though. They had competed of course, but they also had rooted each other on. Another reason though, that she could be no longer jealous, was that she had lost interest in the occupation. That made sense too, for when they had parted she seemed to be not the least bit interest in Crane or psychology...

But he didn't want to think about that. It was over. That part of his life when he had lost his closest friend; it was over, and it didn't matter anymore.

Did it matter that she was back now? Did it matter that she was now working in Gotham, or that he had worked on her case and it ended up being for her benefit? Of course it didn't. She had just wanted to thank him; that's what the lunch was for.

He remembered the phone number like it was a barbell in his pocket.

Crane sighed heavily, running both hands over his face and knocking off his glasses in the process. He rubbed his temples briefly before both arms collapsed at his sides again. He had too much to think about in his profession life, he didn't have room for a personal one, not anymore.

He reached into his pocket and found the small, slightly crumpled piece of paper. He held it out in front of him, squinting. The name, 'Riley,' had been printed above the number.

"As if I wouldn't remember," Crane mumbled to himself, before lifting up off his bed and walking to his desk. He set the piece of paper next to the lamp on the otherwise bare desk. He shrugged off his coat, retrieved his cell phone from the pocket, and hung it over the back of his desk chair. He set the cell phone next to the paper, and stared at them both.

'Call me when you're not busy.'

Well, he wasn't busy now. A glance at the clock reminded him why. It was late, and he was tired. She was probably tired too, wouldn't want him calling and bothering her now. With one last glance at the paper and his phone, he loosened his tie and headed to the bathroom.

-

Laying in bed later that night, Crane was finding it hard to get to sleep. His mind was usually filled up with other people's problems, not his own. He wasn't used to it. He couldn't just store them away like a patient's file when he left his office. The memories were flooding his mind, and he hated thinking about his past. He had thought he had escaped from his past, but apparently it had followed him; strange coincidence or not.

Some memories though, had actually brought a smile to his face.

"Melissophobia."

"Fear of bees. Lockiophobia."

"Fear of childbirth. Psychophobia.

"Fear of mind, easy one. Seriously Jon, I know you're smarter than me, but I'm not that dense."

"I am not smarter than you."

"Yeah, you are. Bet you can think of one that I don't know."

"Defecalsoesiophobia."

"Ew, Jon! Grow up!" She was laughing.

He had always made her laugh, sometimes meaning to, sometimes not, and sometimes quite the opposite, but he had liked to see her laugh, even if it was at him. He rarely saw anyone laugh anymore.

Crane didn't get much sleep that night.


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

Crane was having a bad day.

The third new patient that week had arrived. It seemed like more were coming each week, and the files were piling up on Crane's desk. The few doctors he had were given numbers of patients that he didn't think they could handle. One of his best psychologists had quit due to an incident with the new patient; a schizophrenic that Crane still didn't quite understand. The patient had harassed the psychologist, supposedly telling her of things she thought nobody knew about her. Crane had explained to her that sometimes the patients have abilities similar to the doctors, and can read her just as well as the doctors could read them. Obviously disturbed, she quit, claiming she didn't feel safe anymore.

"Not even with you around, Dr. Crane." She had said. He had dismissed her, but did not apologize for the incident. It was known to all of the staff that sometimes Arkham wasn't the easiest place to work, and Crane couldn't be blamed for that. After all, the patient did not harm her physically, and even if he had, that too was sometimes to be expected.

At first, Crane had been intrigued. Her story was most interesting and he planned to visit that particular patient to see just what had frightened her so much. And for a such an experienced psychologist to be phased so easily; he really was quite curious. It was a little later he realized he had indeed lost a member of the staff, and that was never good. Especially when they were getting three or more new patients in a week.

Crane was standing at his filing cabinet, looking for the file of the patient who had cost him one of his staff when there was a knock at his door.

"Come in," He said nonchalantly as he shuffled through files. He turned his head as the door opened and his searching hands came to an abrupt stop as Riley Gage walked into his office. She held his gaze as she shut the door quietly behind her.

"Hey, Jon."

"What are you doing here?" Was the first thing that Crane said, probably a little too quickly.

"I'm sorry," Was Gage's response, "If this is a bad time, I can leave." It took Crane a moment to register why she apologizing. He had just been shocked to see her waltz right into his office. He had thought about her a lot the past night and was actually planning to call her when he got off work, if he could work up the nerve. He didn't know why it made him so nervous. In the back of his mind he was actually hoping that she'd call him first.

She had done a little more than just call.

"No. It's fine. I was just finishing up with something." He lied, leaving the file for later and shutting the filing cabinet. She smiled and nodded, probably not believing him.

"So, this is your office." She said, looking around, "It's very..."

"Dull?" Crane asked. That's what most said about it, anyway. His desk was bare, just like his desk at home, with no pictures of family or cute paperweights to decorate it. The walls were as bare as his desk, although he did have a small clock hung up. His desk chair was a solid back, as was the couch, against the opposite wall.

"I was going to say neat." Gage chuckled. She had walked over his desk, and ran a hand over the surface. He took a moment and just looked at her. He still wasn't used to seeing her in blouses and skirts. She always used to wear long sweaters and jeans when they were in school. When he had seen her in court he had hardly recognized her. Her reddish-brown was longer than she used to wear it, half of pulled away from her face and clipped in the back. He remembered her having a sort of skinny, boyish figure, but now as he looked at her he noticed that she had filled out in all the right places.

Her movements had barely registered in his mind and suddenly she was sitting in his chair. She folded her arms on his desk and grinned up at him. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What can I do for you, Riley?" He asked finally. She had to be here for a reason, other than to sit at his desk and stare at him, and generally make him uncomfortable. Riley leaned back in his chair, folding her hands back behind her head. Crane wondered briefly if she would go so far as to prop her feet up on his desk.

"I was actually hoping for a job." She admitted.

"Here?" Crane asked, perhaps a bit too disbelievingly.

"Why not?"

"I thought you were already working. As a school therapist."

"You really think they still want me there after the trial?" She asked, rolling her eyes, "Besides, I'm sick of kids."

"You'd prefer the criminally insane?" Riley's laugh was a welcoming sound to Crane, especially in his office, which was usually a pretty grim place. Her very presence seemed to lighten it up.

"At least this place is real. At the school I get a lot of kids coming in because they want an excuse from a heavy workload. 'Miss Gage, will you please tell my teacher I can't do my homework tonight? I had an anxiety attack today I don't want to stress myself anymore.'" She imitated one the students. Crane smiled. She smiled back. "So what do you say?"

"One of my psychologists actually quit today," He said, "I could definitely use you."

"Great. Let's celebrate." Riley said, standing abruptly.

"What?"

"Let's go to dinner, or get a drink. Come on. You can't stay in this room all the time, it's not healthy." She grabbed her purse from where she set it at her feet and walked towards the door.

"Wait, there are some things we'll need to discuss, and there is some paperwork-"

"Later," She told him. She pushed the door open and stood in the doorway, looking at him expectingly, "Well, come on." Crane hesitated. It was a little early to be leaving, and if Riley was serious about the job there were some things they needed to take care of, but...

Crane suspected she hadn't just waltzed into his office looking for a job, and she wasn't hiding the fact very well.

She was smiling at him., and she had a hopeful, excited look in her eyes. He took a step forward as if he was being drawn to her, and with one last fleeting thought about a certain patient's file, he decided it could wait until tomorrow. He had no more sessions scheduled for today, after all.

"All right," He said, and, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair, followed her out the door.

* * *

A/N: Thank you to those who have read and reviewed. School started back up today, but I will do my best to keep the chapters coming out. I've written all the way up to chapter 3, but I want to do some editing, because I read over this chapter again and went "bleh," and tried to edit it a bit. I might get a beta. Anyway, thank you all again, and hope you all will continue reading.  



	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

_"I'm tired," Riley said, reaching over and pushing an unusually large textbook closed. Jonathan immediately flipped the book open again and skimmed through the pages, finding the page they'd left off on in their notes._

_"Just two more sections," He told her._

_They were in Jonathan's room, her sprawled out on the bed, head at the foot of it, arm dramatically covering her forehead, one knee propped up with the other foot propped against the headboard. Jonathan sat cross legged in the little space remaining for him._

_"That's two too many," Riley whined. She rolled over and leaned over Jonathan's knee, making an attempt to shut the book again, but he swatted her hand away. She crawled up a little further and blocked his view of the book with her body, and he gave up and just looked at her hopelessly. She rolled over again, her back now bent over his knee, and grinned at him._

_"You are lying on my book." He told her._

_"I'm well aware," She answered. They were silent and still then, for a moment, just staring at each other. Jonathan judged she was in a rather uncomfortable position, and the bend of her body over his knee and her arms fallen back behind her head had caused her sweater to ride up ever so slightly so that a strip of pale, silky skin was visible._

_And he reached over and tugged it down for her._

_She stared at him incredulously. She hurriedly sat up and away from him, her cheeks flushed slightly._

_"I'm gonna go," She mumbled. She started to gather up her things but it didn't take long for Jonathan to realize that something was wrong._

_"Wait, wha- what did I do?" He stammered, "Riley." He said said firmly when she didn't answer. She turned and looked at him. She looked almost ready to cry, but she was holding it back._

_"Nothing, Jonathan. That's just the thing, you never do anything." She spat out, then turned and left the room. Jonathan could hear her jogging down the stairs, and the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut._

-

Crane wasn't quite sure if it was the drink that was making his memories so much clearer, or that the the subject of these memories was sitting beside him now.

He had to admit that she was gorgeous. She had always been, but not like she was now. He was seeing her differently of course, and after seven years she had changed, but she was still the same woman. The woman he hadn't seen seven years ago, and he was sorry he didn't look more closely. Maybe he should tell her so. All they had been talking about was work the entire evening and she looked rather bored of it.

"You look really great, Riley." Crane said, turning slightly to face her. She looked mildly surprised before answering.

"Thanks Jon. So do you." She smiled sweetly at him, and he all of the sudden felt nervous again. He took a sip of his drink.

"You haven't changed at all." She continued. He couldn't say to the same for her.

"You have. But in a good way." She laughed.

"Never thought you'd see me in a skirt, huh?"

"Back then it was more likely you'd see me in a skirt." Crane said. She laughed again, nodding.

"You're probably right." She looked at him oddly, and started to laugh again.

"What?" He asked, looking down at himself.

"Just getting images now." Riley said, still laughing.

"Ah," Crane said, but smiled in spite of himself.

"Bet you'd make a prettier girl than me," She teased. He was mildly offended, but blamed her comment on the drink. As he did with his next comment.

"That would be impossible." He felt awkward for saying it, but she looked delighted, and he was glad.

"You're a lot more pleasant than you were at lunch the other day, Jonathan."

"I apologize. It was right after the case. I sometimes get caught up in my work." More like all of the time, but Crane wasn't ready to admit to her that work had been the only thing occupying his mind before she had showed up in that courtroom and back into his life.

"I understand. It was a surprise seeing you again too." Riley said.

"Was it?" Crane asked. He didn't mean to sound accusing, but from the look on Riley's face, he guessed he had, "It's just, you didn't seem surprised." She was silent for a moment, expression gone completely serious.

"Listen Jonathan, I don't want to discuss the reasons I came to Gotham right now, and even though I had known you were here, I didn't-" She paused, sorting her thoughts, "I just meant under the circumstances."

"Of course," Crane said, ready to drop the subject.

"I should ask you why you came here." She said sourly, before taking a long sip of her drink. Crane looked at her sadly.

"You should already know." It came out more bitter than he had intended.

"Jon, I couldn't wait for you forever."

'Why?'

"I know." And it was suddenly all laid out, but neither seemed to want to go any further into the conversation.

* * *

Ok, my bad on the author's note in the last chapter. I meant to say I've written up to Chapter 8, not three. Heh. I am finishing up 8 tonight, hopefully.

**MistressMurchadh**: Thank you. I always love compliments of my original characters because they're slightly harder to make interesting. And thank for reading. :)

**Philippa**: A lot of people judge Crane on just what they saw in Batman Begins, and for me, it's just not enough information. We only see him at the workplace, and when he's battling with Batman. We don't see him at home or when he's actually talking to someone he gets along with. I mean, he's not a robot that walks around arkham asylum all day poisoning people. So, yeah, I'm trying to bring out his humanity, even if it does seem a little ooc. And thank you so much for reading, especially since you're not fond of crane fics. I'm flattered. :) Also, I am a HUGE Cillian Murphy fan, and I've known about Red Eye since before I saw Batman XD I will be in line for the first showing, probably.

**Arisa Mieko**: Thank you thank you.

**Blodeuedd**: I was like, star struck by your review. Your writing is amazing and it is an honor to be complemented by you. Looking forward to reading more of your story. I'm glad you understand Riley's character, I had hoped I was wasn't writing her horribly.

**Morgan**: Thank you for the review. XD You're right, he does need to get laid. I'm still contemplating whether or not that's going to have a chance to happen in my fic. But maybe...


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

The high security ward wasn't Crane's favorite place to be, but he was used to it. There was something about it that made him feel less powerful. He didn't feel like he was in control there. The patients ran the place, no matter how much the doctors pretended they didn't. Doctors weren't respected there; they were laughed at, mocked, insulted, and sometimes even attacked. Dr. Crane himself was no exception.

"Dr. Crane, I'm flattered that you would come all the way down here just to see me."

His name was Warren Callaghan. He was 23, admitted when he was 18, living proof that insane asylums didn't always help people get better. After his first year there though, he had stopped causing trouble. Of course, he was still a danger to himself. Crane didn't think there was a patient in the entire asylum who wanted to die more than Warren. His file showed more counts of attempted suicide than any other patient. The thing was, he didn't act nearly as crazy as the others. He was quite intelligent too, from what Crane could gather from brief and rare visits.

"You gave one my nurses quite a scare," Crane got right to point. He wasn't really up for small talk with a high security ward patient.

"We were just talking, Doctor." Warren grinned, "She was real upset."

"About what?" Crane asked. Warren let a long breath of air.

"I don't know if she'd want me discussing her personal problems with you, Dr. Crane."

"But she'd discuss them with you?" Crane inquired.

"Of course not. I just knew. But I bet she already told you that." Warren said.

"So you read people well. That's a very useful talent." Warren snorted.

"Yeah, too bad I'll never be able to do anything with it."

Crane wasn't going to argue with him; wasn't going to tell him that maybe when he got better he could go back to school and make something of himself. They both knew he wouldn't.

"You'll be seeing my new therapist today, Warren. Her name is Riley Gage," Crane paused, biting his lower lip. He had gone over his decision to allow Riley to see Warren countless times in his head, but it seemed much more unbelievable now that he was actually saying it, "Think of it as a little test."

"For me or for her?" Warren smirked.

Crane said nothing, just pushed back his chair and stood gracefully.

"Get him back in his room and strapped down. Don't forget the bit." Crane told the two guards who were observing from the door.

--

Crane had been leaning in the doorway of Riley's new office for a long moment before she noticed him. She had been hanging up a rather brightly colored painting on the otherwise bare walls. She wore a matching beige blouse and skirt, her hair loose and cascading down her back.

She was on her tippy toes straightening the picture, to the left, then a little bit to the right. She fell back on her heels, hands on her hips, studying the picture. Then she seemed to tense, and turned around.

"Really Jon, lurking in doorways..." She was smiling cheekily.

"I have a patient for you. In the high security ward."

"Ah, testing my skills, huh? Seeing how much I can deal with? Well sure Jon, I'm up for the challenge. You want to grab some lunch after?"

Crane faltered. Why was she always doing that? Managing to turn something so serious into something casual. This would be the third time they'd gone out in three days. Riley sensed his hesitation.

"Nothing fancy. Just food, I'm just hungry." She assured him.

"I can have something brought up for you." Crane offered, "I have work to do though. Perhaps another time-"

"Are you avoiding me because of last night?"

"I-"

"Jon, I don't want to have that conversation either, but it's inevitable, isn't it?" Riley asked anxiously. She looked stressed now, and ran a hand through her hair nervously.

"I'm not avoiding you." Crane said softly.

"Come over tonight then. I'll cook." It was more of a challenge than an invitation.

"Alright." Crane accepted. Riley seemed surprised for a second, and then smiled.

"Good. Now, where's this patient of mine?"

--

Crane remained in his office during Riley's session with Warren. He wasn't worried. He knew she could handle herself. The real point of having them meet wasn't to get information about Warren Callaghan. Crane was much more interested in hearing what Warren had to say about Riley. If he couldn't figure her out, then perhaps Warren could. However, the conversation he suspected they'd be having later that night was bound to clear up a few things; why she was here, what had happened to her, what had happened to them.

Her feelings though, that was something that Riley was not expressing to him, and probably wouldn't anytime soon. He could read her, somewhat, but she was definitely blocking him.

Still, he hoped she would open up to him a bit more tonight, and he would try and do his part too.

Crane was having an awful time trying to concentrate on his work, with the anticipation of meeting Riley for dinner, and the image of her smiling face firmly planted in his head.

* * *

Author's note on next chapter. Soon.   



	6. Chapter 6

Part Six

'I wasn't afraid of them.'

'What were you afraid of?'

'Losing you.'

He felt like a teenager getting ready for his first date.

Crane had decided to return home a bit early before heading over to Riley's place. After a shower he stood over the sink, clad only in a pair of crisp white boxers, fiddled with his hair, and examined the bags under his eyes. His lack of sleep ever since Riley arrived in Gotham was beginning to catch up with him.

He sighed, giving up trying to tame his hair and stood back, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He frowned at the man he saw, the protruding hips bones, the inward curve of his stomach, right up to the skinny, freckled shoulders.

'Scarecrow.'

"Shut up." Crane whispered aloud.

'Where's your little girlfriend, Scarecrow?"

"Shut up."

'Oh, I forgot. She found herself a real man."

"Shut up!" Crane screamed, eyes squeezing shut and fist slamming into the mirror. He heard it shatter, felt the blood running down his knuckles and over his forearm, and sank down to floor with his back against the sink. He pulled his knees to his chest, folding his arms and burying his head in them. He opened his eyes and stared at the blood on his arm, and sat there until his breathing returned to normal.

He got up slowly, fighting the wave of dizziness that washed over him and walked to his desk, picked up his cell phone and paced from his desk to the edge of his bed while he scrolled to Riley's number.

"Hello?"

"Riley, it's Jonathan-"

"You're canceling, aren't you?" She didn't sound angry, but the coldness and indifference in her voice made Crane's stomach drop. Or, that could have been from the loss of blood.

"Something's come up at the asylum. I need to go in right away, there's been-"

"Oh cut the crap, Jon. You're as bad a liar now as you were seven years ago." Now she sounded angry. Crane sighed, lowering his head, and cursed when he saw that blood was dripping onto his comforter.

"Jon? What's wrong? What happened?" Riley asked.

"Nothing," Crane said quickly, getting up and moving to back to sink. He maneuvered his way around the shards of glass littering the floor and grabbed the tissue box. He grabbed a fistful of tissues and pressed them to his injured hand, "I really just can't make it tonight."

"Are you ok? You don't sound well." The concern in her voice was driving him mad.

"I-" He bit his lip, trying to contain the emotion that was building up in his chest. 'No. I'm not ok. I want to see you. I want to know why you left me seven years ago. I want to know why you're back here now. I want to know why the hell you are making me feel this way, I want-"

"I'm coming over there." Riley said, snapping him out of his trance.

"No!" Crane cried, then was so surprised at himself for yelling that he bit his tongue and cursed into the phone again.

"Yes, I am. You're scaring me, Jon. I need to see if you're alright." Crane panicked.

"I'll meet you at the park?" It was a compromise. He could tell she wasn't going to let it go, and as long as they were outside where it was dark maybe she wouldn't be able to see the cuts on his knuckles. He could always keep his hands in pockets of his coat.

"Alright. Twenty minutes." Riley said, "By the benches?"

"Ok," Crane agreed quickly. He slowly lowered the phone and stared at it, running his thumb over the blood strained buttons. He tossed it onto his bed and walked back to sink, turning on the water and running his hands under the faucet.

--

It had taken Crane fifteen minutes to wash up, get dressed, and find a pair of gloves, and five minutes to walk to the park. It was a cold night, so his coat was more than necessary. His trembling could also be blamed on the cold.

Riley was already waiting on the bench by the time he got there. She sat, staring straight ahead, her loose hair wisping around her face in the night breeze. She looked up as Crane approached. She looked distressed, and her expression grew more anxious as she laid eyes upon him.

"God, Jon. You're so pale. What happened?" She stood and walked to him before he got to bench. He opened his mouth to speak, but she put her hands on the sides of his face and he started, bringing one hand up as to pull her away but he found he hadn't the will or the energy. She moved one hand up, brushing the hair from his forehead.

"I-" He stopped, frowning suddenly. He was stuttering much to often lately. "Can we just talk?" Riley stared at him for another moment, studying him, then brought her hands down and nodded. Crane gestured towards the bench and they sat down. Crane took a deep breath.

"I had you talk to Warren Callaghan because I wanted to find out about you."

"Find out about me? What about me?" Riley frowned.

"I don't know. It was stupid of me. I- He, he reads people well. He knows how to scare them." Crane tried to explain.

"You were trying to scare me?"

"No, that's not what I mean, I just, it's-"

"You want to know why I looked you up and came to Gotham? You think it's my deep dark secret and some patient at an asylum is going to scare me into telling him?"

"No! I didn't tell him to."

"You told him something, though." Riley lashed back, "I can't believe you. I think you've got the whole doctor patient mixed up."

"Well, I'm redeeming myself. I'm not going to ask him about what you told him. I'm going to ask you, because that's what I should have done in the first place."

"You're damn right it is. I can't believe you, Jon." She said again. She threw her arms up, exasperated, then leaned over, burying her face in her hands. Crane was silent, looking at her at a complete loss. He sighed, leaning back and resting his head on the back on the bench.

The cold was numbing.

He tried to focus more on the cold than the woman beside him, more than the way her shoulders shook, from the cold or something else, the way her hands were clutching the sleeves of her coat. He looked away, then back at her again, wanting to say something, do something, but he felt frozen.

After what seemed like an eternity, her voice pierced through the silence.

"I missed you." She brought her head up and looked at him. There were tears welled up in her eyes but they didn't spill out, "I just missed you, Jon." He stared back at her, so many emotions rising up inside of him at once, but his expression blank. She chuckled bitterly, "I know I owe you more explanation than that, but that's, you know, that's why I'm here." She turned away from him then, rubbing her hands together to warm them. It was a nervous gesture; she probably expected him to say something, but he didn't know what to say, except...

"I missed you too." He said quietly, and looked back at her just in time to see her eyes squeeze shut and the tears pour down her cheeks. She hastily wiped them away, sniffling, then smiled at him.

"Come back to my place. I can still warm up the food. We can talk there, I'm freezing." She laughed, rubbing her arms. Crane nodded, a warm feeling spreading through him as her smile grew even wider. She got up and he followed her.

--

Riley's apartment was warm and comforting, as Crane suspected her office would be when she was done with it. He waited in the living area while she warmed up dinner the kitchen, and soon the apartment smelled of garlic and pasta sauce.

Crane had taken off his coat, but left his gloves on. He knew he'd have to take them off when he ate, and he was trying to figure out a way to keep his right hand with its cut and bruised knuckles successfully hidden from Riley. She'd undoubtedly question him about it, and at the moment Crane couldn't think of an excuse. He was still trying to figure out why it had happened himself, there was no way he could explain it to her.

He could hear her moving around the kitchen, so he sneaked at peak at his injured hand, pulling the glove down just enough to assess the damage. It hadn't fully bruised yet, but the cuts were red and raw, and he wished he taken the extra time to bandage them up properly.

"Dinner's ready!" Riley called from the kitchen, and Crane hurriedly slipped his glove back over his hand just as she walked into the room. She looked at him and rolled her eyes.

"What'd you do to your hand?" Oh, she was good.

"I just got a little stressed." It wasn't really a lie. He was stressed, but stress usually didn't cause him to hit mirrors. He liked to think of himself as a calm person, and revealing to Riley that sometimes he wasn't always in control was difficult for him, but he was tired of lying. It was exhausting.

"Oh?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him, "I'm sorry if it was because of me." He didn't know if she was joking or not, and he didn't have time to ask, because she walked to him and was taking his hand in hers. He opened his mouth to protest but she glared at him, and it reminded him of the way she used to glare when he wouldn't allow her to help him when he got pushed around at school. Well, maybe pushed around wasn't the proper term for it, but he had felt so weak and ashamed when he winced as she pressed a ice pack to a black eye or a split lip.

He found himself submitting to the comfortably familiarity of her taking care of him. As much as he told himself he hated it, the feeling of being cared for was unusual for him but not unpleasant.

"It wasn't," He told her as she gently pulled off his glove.

"Let me get you some ice," Riley said, rising. Not waiting for a response, she walked back to kitchen, turning back to him just before she entered the room, "I don't blame you. Talking to that Warren character kind of made me want to hit something."

"I'm sorry."

"Part of the job." She shrugged, smiling at him, then disappeared into the kitchen. He wondered briefly if he should follow her, because she had announced that dinner was ready, but she reappeared with the ice quickly, and sat down close to him on the couch. She took his hand again and pressed the pack firmly to his knuckles. They both looked at it for a moment before looking up and catching each other's eyes.

"Just like old times, eh?" Riley asked, a little uncomfortably, her teeth catching her lower lip.

"Don't remind me," Crane said, even though he had already been reminded much earlier. She sighed, bringing an arm around his back and rubbing it lightly.

"I bet those creeps are still living at home with their mothers."

Crane tensed, the involuntary reaction to the feel of someone touching him, but then relaxed under her soothing gesture and her comforting words. He was almost sorry she was probably going to break away from him very quickly after his next comment, as the question he really wanted answered rose to his mind.

"And Trevor? How is he these days?" Crane asked, maybe a bit bitterly, but he couldn't help it. To his surprise, the hand on his back stopped moving but did not pull back from him.

"Trevor never hurt you." She said softly. Crane shrugged.

"I guess not from your point of view."

"Don't do this, Jonathan." Riley pleaded, shaking her head, "I don't want to fight with you right now." Her expression was one of sorrow, pity, and regret, but it did nothing to suppress the anger that building up in Crane.

"That's what I'm here for though, right? So we can talk." He spat out, but she wouldn't give in. She shook her head again.

"No, I don't- Please Jonathan, let's just have dinner. You've obviously had a bad day, and we don't need to go into this now." She sounded desperate, and guilty. Crane thought maybe he'd struck a nerve when he mentioned Trevor, but she'd also struck one when she'd brought up the beatings. They couldn't tip-toe around either subject forever, and he was tired of pretending that they could just go back to being friends, or start becoming anything else, before they were addressed.

She was holding onto him tighter now, the hand on his knuckles and the arm wrapped around his back, and he would have lost his resolution if she'd done anything more, so he gently but firmly pushed her away, trying to ignore the hurt expression on her face.

"No, Riley. You can't do this. Let me know when you're ready to talk." He placed the ice pack in her hand, got up and quickly gathered the discarded glove and his coat. She was silent, and he avoided looking back at her as he walked to the door and left.

* * *

**SpadesJade:** Guess that's a good thing? ;

**HoneyBee1: **Thanks a lot! Hope you keep reading.

**Blodeuedd:** I'm so glad you're liking Riley, and enjoying the story. And Warren too. Cool! He's probably not going to have a very large role, but if things go as I planned, an important one. Anyway, again, glad to see you're still reading!

**Winged Seraph:** I've also gotten some comments from some friends who are reading this about Crane getting laid. Lol. Well, it wasn't really the intended purpose of my OC, but I'll see what I can do. ;; Thanks you for comments!

**Philippa:** They didn't have a romantic relationship in the past, they were just good friends, but that scene was meant to show that perhaps Riley wanted more. About the last two lines in chapter four, Crane is saying, "I know," but he is thinking, "why?" Or, "why?" is what he really wants to say. Sorry about the confusion. Anyway, thanks for commenting.

**MistressMurchadh:** They definitely have some communication issues, among others. Gotta love complicated relationships. Glad you're enjoying the story.

**Morgan:** Thanks so much for your compliemnts. Crane will become more Crane-like soon, but I feel bad because people seem to be liking Crane as he is. But it's inevitable that he has to change into the man he is in Batman Begins. I don't know know what do with all these requests for Crane sex though, eh heh.

**MissRyss03:** Glad to hear from a fellow Cillian fan! And glad you're enjoying the story.


	7. Chapter 7

Part Seven

Trevor Bromahn was everything Jonathan Crane was not; tall, muscular, and stupid. He had movie star good looks, and a new girlfriend every week. Jonathan was less than pleased when he found out that this week's girlfriend was Riley. Riley was the only really friend Jonathan ever had, and he certainly never thought of her as shallow, until now.

"Jon, wait up! Oh come on, don't be like this!" She was hurrying after him, hiking her book bag up on her shoulder.

"I'm going to be late for class." Jonathan said lamely, not slowing down his pace.

"You're already late! Just stop and talk to me, please." She caught up to him and grabbed his arm to slow him down. He shook her off and walked faster.

"There is nothing to discuss."

"Oh, don't be like this, Jon. I hate when you're like this!" She shouted. Jonathan frowned. Everyone was already in class and her voice was echoing off the walls, and probably into the classrooms. "Trevor is a really nice guy!"

Jonathan stopped dead in his tracks, "Riley, you've hardly spoken two words to him until yesterday. His last girlfriend just dumped him, for obvious reasons. You're just next in line." He wasn't prepared when Riley backhanded him across the face. He stared at her, eyes going wide in anger, "Be careful, Riley. You wouldn't want to hurt me. I'm so very fragile." He mocked, then began striding away from her quickly.

"What are you talking about, Jonathan? I really don't understand you sometimes! Are you jealous, or what?" Riley shouted after him, but she didn't follow him. When he didn't answer, she turned with a grimace and started towards her classroom.

--

In the boy's bathroom, Jonathan stared into the mirror and examined his left cheek. It was a little red, but at least she hadn't left a handprint. He didn't know what she had to be angry at him for. She was the one dating that dope. He wanted to tell her that she deserved better, but the fact that some of Trevor's buddies were the guys that beat on up him every week was closer to actual reason.

What hurt him the most though, was that Riley had called their friendship a sacrifice for her; that she was teased because she spent time with him, defended him, and was his friend. She had cried that she hadn't a boyfriend because either it was thought that she was dating Jonathan, or nobody wanted to date the Scarecrow's sidekick. Jonathan suspected it was more of the latter. She had never once complained to him until now, never once even hinted that their friendship was a burden to her, and then Trevor comes along, and their years of friendship mean nothing.

She was mad at him?

Jonathan sighed. He turned on the faucet and ran his hands under the cold spray. He heard the bathroom door swing open, heard the footsteps on the grimy tiled floor, but ignored the person who was approaching him. The footsteps only stopped when they were right beside him, and he shifted away uncomfortably from the person who had entered his personal space. Keeping his eyes lowered, Jonathan quickly turned off the faucet and reached for the paper towel dispenser. Fingers twisting painfully in his hair brought him to an abrupt halt.

"I haven't had a chance to say hello to you this week, Scarecrow." Jonathan knew his voice without having to look at his face. Probably the worst of his tormentors, although it was hard to compare, Clay Walters had hated Jonathan since jr. high school. He was actually the one to be credited for Jonathan's nickname. Whenever Jonathan was assaulted, Clay was always there, either watching or doing the attacking himself. He led the rest of them, and whenever the circumstances were so horrible that they happened to be alone together, Clay would make sure Jonathan got a good beating then, too. He didn't need the others like they needed him.

"I heard your freak friend Riley's dating Trevor Bromahn." Clay's grip in Jonathan's hair tightened as he twisted and forced him to look at him. He laughed in Jonathan's face, and Jonathan held his breath to avoid breathing in the foul stink of Clay's.

"So what, we're just friends. She can date whoever she wants." Jonathan spat out angrily. It wasn't the truth, but he wouldn't give Clay the pleasure of hearing the actual misery it was causing him.

"I'm glad she's finally moving on from you. Now that she's dating Trevor she's not going to have time for a little freak like you. So tell me, how does it feel to lose your only friend?" Clay grinned at him, and Jonathan wanted nothing more than to wipe that slimy smirk off his face. Images flashed through his mind of Clay screaming in terror, his face contorted into an obscene expression of agony and fear. His fantasy was uninterrupted though, by a fist slamming into his jaw. He was propelled backwards and he felt his spine hit the edge of the sink. He stumbled away from Clay and brought his hand up to his face as if to shield it.

"I asked you a question." Clay gritted out angrily, stalking towards Jonathan again. Jonathan shrank into himself, humiliated but knowing he couldn't fight back. Clay grabbed his hair again and spun him around, and Jonathan let out a tiny groan of pain as he slammed him up against the wall, his head colliding against it with a sickening smack, "How's it feel!" Clay yelled. Jonathan grimaced as spit splattered on his face.

"I don't feel anything," Jonathan said, as calmly and as indifferently as he could. Clay's fist slammed into his gut, and Jonathan choked and doubled over, bringing his hands to clutch at his middle.

"Did you feel that?" Clay thundered. He stared at Jonathan, angry for a moment, and then his scorn turned into a smirk. He laughed bitterly, turned swiftly, yanked the door open, and strode out of the room.

Jonathan waited until the door slowly swung shut before sliding down the wall and sobbing quietly into his bent knees.


End file.
